


O Finchmas Tree

by PJTL156



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJTL156/pseuds/PJTL156
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch comes to the library on Christmas to exchange presents with Reese. But when he gets there Reese has an odd surprise for him. Rinch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Finchmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This picture inspired this fic: http://pjtl156.wordpress.com/2012/12/24/finchmas-tree/a-finchmastree/
> 
> I wish everyone a Merry Chirstmas/Finchmas/Rinchmas and/or Happy Holidays. :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Person of Interest.

O Finchmas Tree

Reese smiles like he’s proud of himself as Finch walks in and gapes at his surprisingly tall creation. Finch stares at the weird erected pile with utter confusion. _What the hell is that?_   _Are those my books?_

“It took me all night,” Reese says motioning toward the fake Christmas tree that was as tall as him and made completely of green and red books. 

“I imagine…” He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered, concerned for Reese’s mental health, or mad because he would have to put all those books back tomorrow.  Probably a little of everything. “How creative of you.”

Reese walked closer to him as he went for his desk.

“Do I get a Christmas present to put by my Finchmas Tree?”

Finch stops and turns his whole body towards him in surprise. “ _Finchmas_ Tree?” His eyes squint.

Reese smirks again, but looks less confident this time. “Thought of it myself.”

_I’m not surprised_ , Finch thinks, but keeps it to himself.

Carefully, he places the briefcase from his hand onto the table, putting himself between it and Reese so it’s out of his line of sight. Reese tries to peer over his shoulder, but Finch senses it and moves.

“Patience is a virtue, Mr. Reese.”

Reese just keeps smiling and stands there waiting.  After a few dragging seconds, Finch turns around and hands him a flat, wrapped present in sparkling silver paper and a dark purple bow.  It reminded the dark-haired man of the gifter himself. 

Reese looks up at Finch asking for permission, who motions his hands with a wide smile much like the one he had while giving him the key to the loft apartment months back.

“Open it.”

He didn’t want to rip the beautiful paper Finch had done such a beautiful job of wrapping the gift up with, so he went slowly. So painfully slow to Finch that molasses could have dripped to the floor faster.

“A little faster, John,” he said gruffly. “Every second we’re getting closer to death y’know.”  He was starting to get slightly agitated. Reese had already spent one whole minute on just one corner.

Reese looked up.  “That’s not a very cheery mood on Christmas, Harold,” chided Reese. “And don’t be a hypocrite. I’m not going any slower than you were.”

Finch shrugs it off, but still looks slightly annoyed.  He really was really more of a giving person than a receiving one. And right now he was impatient to see what Reese thought of his gift.

Reese decided to just rip it open before Finch ripped _him_ open.  He knew he sometimes deserved it, so he couldn’t blame him if he tried.  Strangers did it all the time.

Slight surprise hit as he gazed at the gift before him.

“I wasn’t quite sure what to get you…” Finch explained quietly.

Reese looked up in awe. Finch was turning red and shifted his weight slightly from one heel to the other.  With mouth wider than usual, Reese looked back down.  At least this time he hadn’t forgotten a part of the present.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense.  You’re my favorite asset. Besides, it’s not like it took a chunk out of my wealth.  Just my sanity trying to figure out what to get you.”

 “I’m your _best_ asset,” corrected the taller man.  “But you already gave me an apartment and a purpose, Finch.  That was more than enough to last a lifetime.” Reese paused.  “And here I thought your sanity was already gone.”

Reese enjoyed their playful banter, but it was bittersweet.  One day they wouldn’t have the chance to do this.  Christmas had a way of making you think about the future and the past.  Sometimes good feelings surfaced, sometimes bad. God, how he would miss this when one of them wound up dead.  Finch was right: It was only a matter of time. 

“Yes, I did, but I didn’t get you one of these yet. It isn’t much, but I wanted you to have something to remind you you’re not alone anymore.”

Reese looked back down at the weighty gift in his hands.  It was a handsome, ornately decorated solid silver framed picture.  The frame itself would have put a large dent in a normal man’s paycheck.  The picture inside was the one that Leon had insisted on taking a couple months prior.  They agreed to it after his irritating nagging only because he helped them out, but Finch confiscated the digital copy so he couldn’t use it against them in the future.  They knew it was his plan all along, but it wasn’t every day they got the chance of having their pictures taken with consent.  Leon seemed a little saddened by losing it, but they all knew the two men would see the nuisance again.  With their luck, soon.

Truth be told, they had actually both wished for a picture together, but neither ever voiced it.  Maybe their third dog wasn’t as much of a hindrance as they had thought.

In the picture Reese and Finch were kneeled down by Bear and all were smiling almost forcefully, but smiling nonetheless.  They were both too paranoid to relax and enjoy the moment so the picture could be taken.  Untrusting faces were all Leon was going to get to work with.  Except for Bear who actually looked like he was beaming with delight to be by both of his owners. 

The drooling, happy as could be dog; usually gloomy looking Reese; and caged bird Finch, usually with unsettled eyes, all looked fairly happy, though uncomfortable.  The trio stared back at Reese.  It was the sweetest, most thoughtful gift he had ever received. Sometimes the simplest item brought out the most complex emotions. If Reese thought he still could, he would probably tear up.

“Thank you, Finch. It’s perfect…” It was dangerous for them to have a picture together, but by now they were being hunted by almost every armed person in the city.  Their lives couldn’t get much more jeopardized.  And Finch had pictures of him together with Ingram and Grace, so he couldn’t see much difference.  It was just another chapter in their lives, now recorded with hardcopy and digital proof.  And now whichever one died first could look back at this picture with fond remembrance of their time together, no matter how short it may end up to be.

“You’re welcome.” Finch paused and looked carefully at the man in front of him. “Money isn’t everything, and I’ve always been a sucker for things with sentimental value.”

Reese held the expensive frame, looking over every little detail of the picture once more, then back at his partner. 

“We almost look like a family.”

He flashed the picture to the shorter man.  Finch leaned closer and studied the photo, though he really didn’t have to.  He had looked at it again and again when he was all alone late at night.  It had never occurred to him before. They did look like an extremely nontraditional family.  _Actually,_ Finch thought suddenly, _I think we_ are _a family._ They fought, spent hours a day together in some sense (even if it was just talking), and in the end they would protect each other no matter what.Add to that how much they depended, relied upon, and cared for each other, and they were what made family special.  Genetics were only optional.  They already had the crucial ingredients to the familial recipe.

“I think we are a family in a sense, Mr. Reese… ” He paused.  “John.”

Reese nodded and tried not to smile, but he failed miserably.  A warm wave of acceptance and appreciation washes over his blackened soul.  He had friends and a family again. Just what he wished for.  He needed that feeling of belonging more than anything of monetary value.

“Do you wanna see your gift?” Reese asks nodding toward the ‘tree.’

“Sure.” Finch looks over at the hulking thing several feet away. “Wow. That must have taken you all night. That’s a lot of books.”

Hesitantly, Finch stepped forward.  It rose above him several menacing inches.  If it fell he could possibly die in an avalanche of books. As fitting a death as that would be, he didn’t feel like being squashed like a bug today. Maybe tomorrow once the holiday was over.

Finch took a few minutes to appreciate Reese’s work, walking around the tree and inspecting ever miniscule detail.  His awed face was enough to heat Reese’s blood.  He looked truly happy for a few short minutes. 

Reese watched him walk around the tree slowly appreciating all that he had done last night.  He had used several of Finch’s ties as ornaments, along with a couple hopefully harmless grenades (Finch prayed they weren’t about to blow them to smithereens), several unused jars of Leila’s baby food, green tea paper cups, computer chips, old floppy discs, and on the top by the yellow, cardboard star Reese had set the picture frame with their smiling faces looking over the library like the protectors they were.

“Sorry it’s a little lame.” Reese looked down at enclosed hands.

“No, it’s really not. In fact, it’s very sweet. You put a lot of thought into this. I’m touched. Thank you.” He looked back at Reese, the snow making light reflect on his face giving him a sparkling, angelic look that complimented his slight blush.  It was a truly remarkable sight, just like the Finchmas tree. 

Finch felt tears threating to break the dam.  He could safely say it was the most thoughtful Christmas present he had ever received.

“We didn’t know each other that well last Christmas, but now that we’ve been through so much I figured I’d do something to express my gratitude.”

“You already do every day, John. Whenever you help me with a Number you’re giving the gift of life, and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

Both men stood and watched each other breathe uneasily.  Their faces were a pinch more red than they should be.  Their silent thoughts turned to sudden electricity in the air.  They could feel it spark between their bodies. 

Reese walked close to Finch. Too close. His breath quickened and slowed at the same time, like only Reese could do to him.  Finch wasn’t surprised to feel arms engulf him and bring their bodies together.  He _was_ surprised when he realized his hands were around Reese too, and his face was buried into his shirt so far he swore he was a part of him now. 

The hug didn’t survive long, but the effects were everlasting.  In that moment Finch realized something he had been ignoring for a long time. From the look on Reese’s face he had already known and come to terms with it. Finch swallowed hard and looked around the room, his eyes settling on the tree, ignoring the elephant in the room that felt like it was standing on top of him.

“Not that I don’t love your gift, but why did you do it?”

“Because you’re my favorite boss,” Reese said almost mimicking Finch’s previous words.

“No, no,” he said shaking his head a little, “I’m serious. Why?”

Reese sighed and rubbed his own hands reassuringly, then looked up like a puppy dog.  His cheek twitched at what he was about to say.

“I needed to show you how much I care about you, Finch.  You picked me up and dusted me off, then slapped me on my ass and said to go back out there and play the game. So I did, and here we are. Without you I’d be long dead by now.”

He didn’t know how it was possible, but Finch felt even more touched than before. 

“That’s very kind of you…” He didn’t know what else to say, and that left silence. Finch hated that. “Except I’m pretty sure I never slapped your ass…”

His words made Reese give off a runty smile and he returned it.

“Ever thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” Finch breathed, not understanding his meaning.

“Slapping my ass,” Reese purred. Once more, Finch turned red. He turned back towards the tree to save himself at least part of the humiliation from the reaction.

“I want some tea. Care for some?” he rushed out.  Limping off quickly, he could still hear footsteps close behind. _Oh, hell_. He should know Reese wasn’t one to back down.  Especially about a topic like this.

“Answer me, Finch.” The tone was soft, but his words required an answer.

There was a long pause of silence as they kept walking. Finch stopped at the counter and braced himself both physically and mentally.  He refused to turn around and face the music.

“On a few occasions, maybe,” came a soft voice.  If Reese hadn’t been on his tail he wouldn’t have even heard it.

All of a sudden Reese was behind him, around him, surrounding him, suffocating him. Finch gasped harder than he realized was humanly possible and pulled away from his ex-op. He spun his body around, stuttering like an old Model A.

“W-wh-what the _hell_ are you doing?!” He grabbed the nearest item which just happened to be a flimsy spatula.

Reese looked at him like he was the president of the nuthouse, but apologetic nonetheless.

“It was just a hug, Harold.”

“Sure didn’t feel like it!” he exclaimed with his voice an octave too high.  How embarrassing.

Reese looked down at himself, then back at Finch with confusion.

“I don’t understand. You admit your feelings toward me then have a panic attack when I give you a little hug?”

“That was hardly a _little hug_. And I never admitted to anything.”

Finch was getting dangerously defensive. He was losing him.  Reese had to calm the wild beast before he got scratched -or in this case slapped- with a spatula.

Reese took a step forward, but a freaked out Finch wielded the plastic utensil wildly. He got a nice smack across the face. It would have been easy enough for Reese to snatch it from his weaker hands, but the man was already insecure when it came to self-defense. A slam against his battered ego would have been low.

“Come on, Finch. No need to be abusive. I swear on my life it was just a hug.” Reese rubbed his stung cheek, but it was a lot less sore than his pride. “Trust me; if it had been anything else you would have known.”

Finch looked down at his hand that moments earlier was waving like a madman. Realization snapped and showed in the light eyes. 

“I apologize,” he rushed out.  “I just…” He knew what he wanted to say, but when he looked into Reese’s soft eyes he lost all mental power.  He supposed he had never really looked at them before, since their beauty now captivated his entire being.

Reese slowly and cautiously took the cooking utensil from Finch.  He gave it over without further struggle.  At the moment he was fixated on his friend’s eyes like they had hypnotized him.  For some reason Finch didn’t seem alarmed by their closeness now; he seemed trapped in a far-off land he didn’t mind not coming back from.

“If you don’t want any kind of relationship with me I’m okay with that.  All you have to do is say so.  But you can’t deny we have chemistry.”

Reese was right.  There was no way he could deny it. That would be lying, and he promised not to, though he had gone against his word before.

“It’s not that. I’m just a little… Oh, to hell with it.  Honestly, I’m mortified.”  It was the honest truth.  He wasn’t just afraid; it terrified him to get involved with another when he knew it could never last.

“So am I.” Reese took a step forward. 

The beast had finally calmed down enough to cage.  He pulled him into another hug like the first one. Finch didn’t fight this time.  Though the shorter one hugged back, he had other things on his mind.  They had to be cleared up before he could do anything else- even including enjoying the fleeting moment.

“Why would you want to be involved with me… romantically or otherwise?”

Reese still held him, but his grip loosened.  It was easier to talk without facing each other.  Plus the contact was a nice change. At least Reese allowed himself to bask in it enough for them both, since Finch was rigid under his fingertips.

“I don’t know. Why does anyone ever want to be in a relationship?” Reese said into the air over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Do you actually have some sort of romantic feelings for me, or is this just a cruel joke?” If it was a joke, Finch wasn’t sure if he could keep his composure.  And he sure wouldn’t be laughing at any point in the future.  Crying himself to sleep would be more like it if he could find the energy.

Though it was easier to talk like this, Reese knew his partner had to see his eyes to know the truth behind them. Otherwise Finch would be forever paranoid that Reese would someday say “April fools!” and his heart would be crushed to dust. 

He held onto Finch’s tense, rocky shoulders, gazing into his eyes like starlight. 

“Of course I do.”

But he could tell Finch still wasn’t completely onboard his train.

“Harold, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.  It’s not just that I want to be with you, I want to be with you in _every_ sense.  You’re what I live for now.  _All_ I live for.”

His eyes sparkled even brighter now that he had admitted his deeply personal feelings. Truth ran freely from his words.  The recluse could tell he meant it. That was enough for him to give in.  With a pull on Reese’s collar their lips met in a small kiss.

“You’d better not be lying to me,” warned Finch while looking upward afterwards.

“I’m not. I swear.” He crossed his heart and hoped to die.

Finch arched a brow and turned toward the tea kettle sitting near his cold hotplate. He turned on the burner and filled the kettle. While he was waiting for it to heat he looked out the glossed window.

“It’s snowing harder out there.  Road conditions are probably deplorable.”

“At least we’re inside.”

Reese walked up to him and wrapped a strong arm over his shoulder with a feeling of satisfaction.  Yet he stood there with a nagging feeling he was forgetting something important.  The closeness of Finch must have been fogging up his brain.

“Oh.” Reese’s mind suddenly snapped back to what day it was. “I almost forgot. You have a present waiting downstairs.”

Turning eyes toward him, Finch looked up with an open mouth.

“Another one? John, you didn’t have to-”

“We already had this conversation once,” he cut off. “I wanted to.”

Smiling, Reese turned and walked away. Abandoning his tea craving, he unplugged the hotplate then slowly caught up to him.

XOX

“Oh, my… John, I’m speechless.”

Reese beamed.

“Get on. I want to see what you look like straddling it.”

But he didn’t get on, or hear the suggestiveness of his partner’s voice. For a while he just stood there.  Finch looked at the beast with insecurities written obviously across his aging face.

“I don’t know about this…”

“You’ll be fine. The kickstand’s up. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to drive it around in here.”

That was enough of a kick to motivate him to get on the metaphorical horse. Finch swung his leg over the dark red Harley Fat Boy with a grunt. His face lit up cutely as he checked out his new ride. 

“I believe the modern term for this is ‘bitchin’.’”

Reese chuckled at him.  He couldn’t be happier that Finch was so elated over his gift.

“It’ll take some practice so you don’t kill yourself on it, but with my expertise you’ll be an Evel Knievel in no time.”

Finch huffed. “That might take a few more years than I have left, John.  Plus he didn’t have the greatest luck.  The odds are already stacked against me.”

Reese stood and watched Finch while Finch watched him back. Neither knew what to say.

“Can we go for a ride?” Finch asked almost like a begging kid in a candy store.

“As long as I’m driving. With it snowing out it’ll be slippery and dangerous, but I’ll be able to handle her.”

That was fine with Finch.  He didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths.  It was bad enough he sent Reese and the detectives into the battlefield every day. Their blood would one day overflow from his quivering hands, but he wanted them all to die for a purpose, not because he got carried away.

“With our lives, don’t we live for danger?”

“Yeah,” Reese started, “but I’d rather not die on Christmas.”

“At least we’d die together.  And we’d be painting the streets red. Just think: If we wore green it’d be festive. Spread the Christmas cheer.”

Reese didn’t really know what he should say to the sadistic comment.

“I’d rather not spread our bodies across the road like jam, Harold.  I’d rather dress up as Santa with you as my elf and give presents to the community. If you want to spread Christmas cheer that sounds like a better option.”

The thought of their bodies scraping across the concrete and bleeding into the drainage system sounded very appealing, but he would rather not have to be peeled off the road like a human pancake.

“Actually, that sounds like a really good idea. Let’s do it. Minus the elf costume.”

“Alright,” agreed Reese. “I’ll be Santa. _Ho ho ho_.”

“I think you need a little work on your laugh.”

Reese dipped down, grabbed the two matching helmets from a few feet away and handed one to Finch.  He put it on, instantly looking like a different person.  Except his attire was way too dressy for a biker dude.

Reese had Finch scoot back and he jumped onto the front, then put on his own helmet.

“Ready?”

The machine roared to life under them, their bodies vibrating from the sheer power, the feeling turning more ecstatic from their closeness and stark excitement of the coming joyride.

“You’re going to drive it in _here_?” Finch almost shouted over the noise.

“To get out, yes. Then on the streets.”  If he waited until they got fully outside to rev the engine he would have to walk it out there while sitting on the bike –which wouldn’t be very easy with a passenger- or he could kick Finch off and start it outside.  Neither choice sounded very appealing.

“Alright then, but don’t hit anything.”

“I won’t.  Maybe we’ll see some lights while we’re out there. Or carolers.”

“The way you drive we’ll _hit_ the carolers.”

Finch held onto Reese, their bodies pressed together to create warmth before going into the already frigid air, which would turn horrifyingly arctic by time they started sailing down the New York streets.  But they didn’t care.  They were spending their Christmas together and about to spread their good fortune.  That was what mattered.  That was what Christmas spirit was all about.

“As long as we don’t hit Santa Clause I think we’ll be fine.”


End file.
